


Patchwork Chaos

by ramblebrambleamble



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Gods, I can imagine it all in my head, Magic, More of an Aesthetic than a story, Non-Linear Narrative, Probably. The first chapter is definitely the first, Short Chapters, Updates will probably be rare, just this Idea that i think is really cool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24833440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramblebrambleamble/pseuds/ramblebrambleamble
Summary: Take care whose name you whisper like a prayer in the long dark night (because a god might hear you.)





	1. Chapter 1

"We were a... promising... child. Do you know... what they do... to promis-ing children?"

.

Unseen behind the eyepatch, their futures spun like stars. Fate cursed the mess of thread, searching fruitlessly for their empty spools - but there was only one spool, tall and wide, ready for a reel of many-plied rope.

Fate sighed, and began the work.

.

There were shrieks of rage and victory shouts in the kingdom of the gods. A thousand and more bets had been lost and won, and many miracles were traded on the behalf of favoured mortals. 

None noticed the great gold rope weaving its way ponderously through the Tapestry.

.

Patchwork Chaos grinned sharply at the sky. "They rip them... into pieces... and sell them... to the high-est bidder."


	2. Chapter 2

"They're having... a meeting."

"Who?"

"All of the... gods that fear... my name."

"Why?"

"I survived." And here, Patchwork Chaos _grins_ , teeth sharper than they ought to be and gleaming. They almost distract from the stitch-scars around their mouth.

The mouth of a prophet; the voice of a siren; the silver tongue of the world's best liar; Patchwork Chaos was dangerous to listen to.

They could talk you into anything. High treason and heresy; debauchery and debt; murder and messes best not investigated.

The legends never did say, though, where they got their _teeth_ from, something that suddenly seems very important as Patchwork Chaos leans in with a fire glinting in their lone eye.

"Tell me..." they say, with their terrible tongue and that awful voice, "what do you... think of our... new lord?"

The king- no, the emperor. They mean the emperor, the supposedly god-blessed emperor that has newly ascended the throne.

There are whispers about the new emperor. The old one had not been all that old, and the sickness took him with suspicious swiftness.

There are whispers, too, that the new emperor has failed to conduct the correct ceremonies, that he has made great enemies of those that would once have backed him.

There are whispers, barely breathed, that he is not blessed at all, but cursed, that he has only gained the throne because he is destined to fail it.

There are no other suitable heirs as of yet. If the new emperor falls the empire will dissolve into anarchy, torn between the various ministers and generals that are forever reaching for power.

Patchwork Chaos likely does not care. And now they are grinning, teeth gleaming, eye glinting, and the end of the world is writ in the curve of their lips.


End file.
